


The Purple and the Crimson

by DoreyG



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Apologies, Character Makes Better Decisions Than In Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "I'm sorry," Frankenstein said.
Relationships: Victor Frankenstein/Frankenstein's Creature
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94
Collections: Writing Rainbow Make Up Round





	The Purple and the Crimson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolf_of_Lilacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/gifts).



"I'm sorry," Frankenstein said.

I froze stock still. Turned to face my loathed creator, the man who had ruined both our lives more times than I can count, with utter disbelief rising in my chest. "What did you say?"

"I've had a lot of time to think out here," he said, calm and composed in a way I had never seen from him before, and waved his hand to indicate the frozen waste we were currently forcing ourselves through. "I don't have anything else to do, what with everybody I love dead and all my usual pursuits thousands of miles away. I've come to several conclusions as a result."

This was some kind of trick, or a lead up to an obscure taunt that would leave me grinding my teeth together even more ferociously than before. I still couldn't help myself from sinking down to a seated position before him, I never could help myself around him. "And I suppose you intend to share them with me."

"It might help, here at the end of everything," he said, and for once his voice lacked bitterness. He seemed thoughtful more than anything, finally contemplating instead of merely reacting with more and more force every time. "All of this was my fault."

I didn't say anything, how could I possibly manage words in response to that?, But I must've made a noise. His eyes snapped to mine, held there with a determination that I didn't entirely know what to make of.

"I've spent so long blaming you for everything wrong in my life. And, to be fair, you have behaved abominably," he said levelly, his words not a bitter recrimination but rather a calm statement of fact. "But I'm the one that created you. I'm the one that abandoned you, when I didn't like what I saw. I'm the one who lied to my own family, betrayed my own self, hid my head in the sand as my world burnt down. I'm the one who blamed everybody else for my own sins. We hold at least equal responsibility for this mess, and I've been pretending otherwise for far too long."

"All I wanted was your love," I finally managed, my voice ragged, and couldn't even appreciate the way his eyes widened in understanding. "No, less than that: all I ever wanted was a moment of your attention. And instead all I got was bitter ash."

"I know, " he said, still level. And for the first time, the very first time, I found it within myself to admire him. "Both of us only have bitter ash, all because I didn't treat you as you deserved to be treated. And I meant what I said earlier: I'm truly sorry for that. "

I didn't know how to respond, nothing in my relatively short and definitely violent life had ever prepared me for this. He was staring at me levelly, like I was an equal worthy of respect. There was no fear in his eyes, no disgust, no burning hatred trying to reduce me to nothing. There was only an earnest breed of determination, and a little tiredness.

"I'm sorry too," I said abruptly, still not sure what to do with the tangle of emotion in my chest but knowing that it had to go somewhere. Knowing that I had to match him, for the other options were death or madness. "I'm sorry for burning down your life, because I didn't have one of my own. I'm sorry that it all went so far and left us both with nothing. I'm just… Sorry. "

"Oh." His mouth formed into a perfect circle for a moment, he seemed actively stunned. And then, very slowly and very tremulously, he started to smile. "Thank you. That means… More than you know."

I had never particularly thought of my creator as handsome before, I had been far too busy loathing him, but something about that smile took my breath away. I suddenly saw how young he was, how innocent and happy he could've been if his life hadn't gone up in flame. It was like staring at the sun, I had to turn away from him or else risk being blinded.

"What do we do now?" I asked the frozen wastes, because it was easier not to look at his face and feel my buried emotions coming back to life. I had felt only hatred for so very long, I didn't quite know what to do with anything more tender. "What can we do, after everything that's happened?"

He hesitated for a long moment. And then, shockingly, his hand crept out and wrapped, ever so slowly and ever so tentatively, around mine. "We could try to start again."

Well, they weren't the worst words that he'd said.


End file.
